


Helping hands.

by EdenMiasma



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Clothed Sex, Droid murder, Dry Humping, F/M, Gun fights, Hand & Finger Kink, Intercrural Sex, Medical Procedures, Medicine, Mutual Masturbation, Naked Female Clothed Male, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Smart Reader, Stitches, The child naps a lot because im bad at writing infants, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, baby yoda babysitting, hard finger fucking, wordy smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21951673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdenMiasma/pseuds/EdenMiasma
Summary: Your life in your quiet town is fine, eventless, but you like it that way. Its peaceful.Until you get a client who vehemently refuses the assistance of a droid knowing theres a flesh medic about.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 375





	1. Chapter 1

Its been a few cycles now since you woke up.

Or at least, what you call ‘waking up’.    
  


It was as if one day you suddenly just existed. 

No memories of your own, no known genetic links in the entirety of the remaining empire databanks, nor the few paper certificates of the quiet town you now live in. No one knew your name, or remembered your face, you had to learn languages, and skills, all on the shoulders of confusion and missing identity. 

But its an honest life, and its yours, you worked hard for it.

You live reclusively, as you like it, nestled at the base of a hill adjacent to the swamplands. People only visit when they really have to. You live otherwise peacefully, growing your own vegetation, studying the flora and fauna of local celestial bodies, and sometimes pieces of imperial tech that works its way into the backwater towns trade lines.

Things are slow, the days tick by rounds of 27 relative hours, your sky is green in the morning and deep blue in the evening, and in the sky you forever see the looming beast of Sadaspar, what the natives call the planet your moon revolves around. 

A little voice in the back of your mind says these things are all fantastical, abnormal, beyond imagination, so much so that every new discovery is deeply fascinating to you.

You felt life will continue this cycle till your end times, you will toil your crops, tend to your pond, and write pages of unknown script for your eyes only, and one day pass along quietly. A simple uneventful life.

But thats not how the universe works, in its strange ways, its millions of threads pulse with excitement as they knit your fateful red string.

  
  


Its the end of ōm, a season of constant humidity and heavy rains that lasts a third of the year, and the Fon fish pupae you had been monitoring in the swamplands were beginning to hatch, releasing large adult bodied fish for you to harvest.

Their scales made a nice powder rich in iron, and its meat tasted like rust, but it was the best fish one could find in the middle of the landlocked nation. Which means poachers could come for your traps, you anxiously wait for the peeping of your sensors. You couldn't possibly survive losing another harvest.

The last batch fell prey to the wilderhounds, a passing mercenary troupe, and you’ll be damned if you let them take advantage of you again.

Alas, when the fall of the first cold rain a distinct noise wakes you in the night, loud and trill, a quick look at the above monitor of your sensor screen shows a tall figure ambling towards your claimed swamp lands, they're armed, carrying something of a crate to collect her harvest. The  _ fucker _ . 

You race through your home, nearly throwing the door off its hinges as you launch towards your speeder bike, Its not too far, and you have a blaster clutched close to your chest. You barely know how to shoot, but you refuse to lose this time, and spent a decent amount of credits on a new model blaster just to feel a little more safe.

The rain holds a certain chill that tightens your stride, and the wind sure doesn't help, nor the stress of having to confront a poacher. Your speeder lurches, its old motor struggling but carries you top speed to the swamps in no time. 

You find your traps left relatively alone, which is odd, concerning almost, only one had been pulled out and cleared. Though grateful, you realise this means whoever took them might still be around, You grip the blaster for dear life while looking around, but the rainfall makes it hard to see far. 

_ Ok _ , you think,  _ just get back to the speeder, and go home. They were armed.  _

Yeah, you didn't want to have to fight, at most you were prepared to yell at someone and maybe scare them away. As if you could draw a weapon on another person. 

“Scared me” you mumble to yourself. A trait you picked up in your self-imposed isolation.

Just as you stand you feel the press of something cold to the back of your head. Then you hear a voice, raspy and dry with a hint of synthesiser. 

“About to get scarier”

You freeze. It was them, a hundred different scenarios race through your head in a panic and you barely suppress a whimper. “Drop the blaster” the voice commands, something about the tone leaves you no room for argument, and something about your innate cowardice makes you toss the weapon into the mud before he was even finished speaking.

You raise your shaking hands beside your head. “I’m sorry, I thought you were poaching my fish, I wasn’t going to shoot you”. Their blaster remains rested against your skull, the person steps closer, their opposite hand pats your hips, thighs, you cant stop a squeal when they brush over your ass and more panic sets into your bones.

_ Oh gods no. please.  _

Theres a tug at your hip, the fabric pulling, you want to run, to scream, to fight. But you stay still and terrified. You were convinced they were pulling your pants down, but a snap and jingle brings your attention to the hand at your side, gloved with shining metal armour, snatching away the keys to your speeder. 

More fear, more scenarios, it took two cycles to afford that speeder, shit. All that work for nothing. You bite your lip to control the wobble in them. This sucks. The person gives you a nudge in the back of your knee forcing it to buckle, you fall into the shallow mudwater only to look up at this figure. 

You believe they are male, or so the build suggests, covered head to toe in armour that shone with every flash of lightning. He stares down at you, and you up at him, with a tremble to your body you've never felt before, true fear of this man and your impending death in his shining grip.

Across his body is a swath of light fabric, it makes a sound that he covers up.

“What way to the nearest city?” he asks, a slight bounce to his blaster to remind you whos on the receiving end. 

“Theres a-” you hate that your voice breaks “a township on the other side of the hill” 

Thats sufficient for him. He turns and leaves you, quickly disappearing into the darkness as if he were never there. Your body shakes, be it from the cold rain, adrenaline, or fear, probably all three. You have never felt your life may end at any moment, not till now. 

Time passes strangely, you feel you don't move for whole hours, somehow unable to make your limbs move till the clouds shine with light. You have to go home, you probably have no speeder, and hypothermia, and if you left the door open when you left then your woven mat is probably ruined by the rainwater. 

So you walk.

It feels shitty, with your mud filled boots and drenched clothes. Wherever that crook is, you hope that busted motor blows up with him on it. 

* * *

You are contacted by Tversia, the small town local to you, about a job. Someone is in need of medical help, something you study for the fun of it, who was more than eager to be treated by a person rather than the local med droid. Which was  _ very odd _ but you were never one to pass on helping someone in need. 

“Of course, send the patient to my hut immediately, I’ll make preparations” you speak through the telecom. Your patient is apparently recovering from an injury, but they're showing concerning symptoms.

It sounds like a simple infection, and surely theres a supply of bacta somewhere to treat a simple wound. You wonder why it wasn't just handled on their own. Of course, things made sense when a familiar chugging sounds outside your home.

_ Son of a bitch.  _

Your  _ patient _ arrives on your speeder, accompanied by Yel’len, the town's local guide and long time friend. You finally get to see this person, this  _ thief _ in the light of day, you can really give them a piece of your mind and demand they… apologise? You guess? 

You momentarily remember the cold press of a blaster to the back of your head. Perhaps not.

You step out onto the wooden foundation of your home to greet the guests. A man in shining metal armour just as you remembered, the visor cut in a sharp T shape, not quite like the white troopers you have seen on occasion (corpses of course), but unique entirely on its own.

You look at the man skeptically before Yel’len dismounts her speeder and approaches you with open arms and a quiver to her head-tails. “It has been too long my friend!” she chimes, you return her hug with a tight shake that makes the Nautolan lose her balance, but she harps a good natured laugh.

If there was anyone you could entrust your life to, it’d be Yel’len. Not just because she's a strong fighter but because you’ve seen her eat a two week old protein block and survive. That's the kinda power you don't mess with.

“The angry man does not like my med droid, maybe you can help his pet?”

You look over her shoulder to the armoured man, in the process of dismounting his speeder with delicate care for the bundle he holds across his chest, now that you can focus on it you recognise numerous marks of blaster scorching to both metal and cloth. Hes been through some hell pretty recently.

“Is he imperial?” you ask her in a hushed voice. 

“No, Mandalorian. Do you not know of them?”

You shake your head. Maybe you’ve seen one before and just not known, blending in with the other obscure armoured persons who pass through. Yel’len huffs a laugh. “You never know, use your data pad more, learn things” 

This…  _ Mandalorian  _ approaches you, movements stiff, he's hiding a limp. 

“I'd like to get assistance immediately” comes his voice, raspy but overwhelmingly masculine with the tin of a voice modulator. It was odd, you realise you haven't heard a male voice in at least a month.

“Of course” 

You lead your guests inside, watching the Mandalorian struggle with your small flight of plank stairs but vehemently refuse a helping hand, opting to keep both hands cradling what you assume is the mentioned ‘pet’. 

Hes seated at your main work area, a mess of medical, botanical, and electrical equipment, you're surprised you’ve never had a life threatening mix up before and pray that day doesn't happen now, lest this strange man end you.

The man unwraps the bundle across his chest and places it on the table, wrapped in the middle of it is a peculiar creature you have never seen before, you are so often exposed to new species it doesn't come across as a shock however, but Yel’len perks up in curiosity from over your shoulder. 

“What is it?”

The Mandalorian is watching you carefully, or at least it feels like it given the angle of his visor, it makes you anxious. He gives a slight nod towards the creature. “Don't know, but hes hurt. I lost all my med equipment and cant get his temperature down” 

You reach out a hand to feel the skin of this thing, it is incredibly soft with a light fluff of baby hair, It feels like the belly of a newborn pup. But it was concerningly warm for a creature of that size.

“He got a few cuts and scrapes during an..  _ Accident _ , I fear they are infected, bacta isn't helping”

There is a strain to his voice, cracking like speaking itself was painful for him. 

“What of yourself? You seem a little worse for ware” you ask.

“The kid first” 

You can respect that. You push aside your concern for the speeder snatcher back to this toasty green guy. You take him out of his tiny robes to see relatively basic anatomy, confusing genital flesh you aren't going to worry about, and the cutest little scaley claw feet in the galaxy. Enough gawking, you have a baby to save. 

It has a few small cuts and scrapes for sure, a dried brown scab on some, but clear irritation on the wound. Its definitely infected, its resistance to bacta was concerning so you get a swab of fluid from the zone for analysis. You feel bad hearing the small squeak of pain this creature makes and note how the Mandalorian twitches at the sound.

The results are fast, Its infected by an evolved bacteria, one already known to you, so treatment came quick and successful. You administered some basic medications to settle the symptoms while he recovered, and gave the little one a bath. By the time you had done the sun began to set and you are sure Yel’len had questioned the Mandalorians ear off, but his child was going to be ok.

His tension seemed to dissipate immediately once you told him you knew the treatment.

But he watched you like a hawk the entire time you worked.

“He will need to be monitored for the next few days, I would like to keep him here to make sure he heals”

The Mandalorian seems reluctant. “How safe is this location?” he asks.

Yel’len chimes from her seat adjacent him. “It is fine! Noone comes to bother this one. They are respected in the village”

“But is it  _ safe _ ” 

He shows clear stress, and tiredness. You try to be comforting, detailing your sensor and auto-turret systems inbuilt in this home long before you moved in like a hermit crab. Satisfied, but unimpressed by the firepower, the Mandalorian agrees to stay while his child heals.

Yel’len takes her leave, despite her overwhelming curiosity of the Mandalorian and his adventures, stories he was in no way wanting to tell her. It is only after your friend leaves that the man heaves a sigh.

“Talks your ear off doesn't she?” you ask in humor. He does not respond. 

You try again to grab his attention.

“So, thats my speeder you have there” 

He stares at you, and you stare back. Somehow his gaze is powerful and confronting despite the lack of visible eyes, you feel yourself shrinking under him.

“I guess I'll.. Show you to the guest room?” 

The Mandalorian follows you through your hut, his footfalls heavy where you are light, his presence lingering behind you in an aura of threatening power. You aren't sure you like being alone with him, not after his attack on your fish, surely not after threatening you. 

Your guest room is more a storage room with a conveniently placed cot. Your own was on the opposite end of the hut, with a lock, one you will be making good use of tonight. He stands at the doorway as the flickering light above blinks to life, casting hard shadows across his intimidating armour.

“This will do fine” He says after a long pause.  _ Thank goodness.  _

You wonder if every exchange of his was as calculated and intimidating, if this was all on purpose or if he was just socially stunted somehow. Nodding to him with a tight smile you make your way to your own room, sectioned off by a shabby wooden door hidden beside a tall bookshelf of trinkets and undecipherable books. 

He watches you leave, and every step you take is anxious, you focus on not misstepping or tipping over but the focus makes your pace awkward, your mind hisses at you for acting foolish in front of someone. 

You offer a hurried “g’nite” before slamming closed your bedroom door and fastening its deadbolt. Not that a bolt matters, he has a blaster, and a huge pointy looking sniper, but you feel safer anyway. 

_ Mandalorians are kinda scary. _

* * *

He remains relatively docile, the scary man from the night before had vanished in place of a surprisingly handyman in blasterproof armour, offering to assist you in daily tasks to somehow ‘pay you’ for your help with the child.

“You are still healing yourself, sit down and let me have a look” you insist. 

But he rejects you. Insisting he's fine despite the croak in his voice when he has to bend his knees to help you maintain your time bomb speeder. He's a stubborn man, prideful, but a helping hand is a helping hand, and you have some two-person work youve been putting off for months.

You convince him after he buckles under lifting a large crate. “Let me look at your wounds” you demand the third time. He winces up at you, or at least you think it is given his groan behind the mask, but he spits out a “fine” before stubbornly carrying the crate away.

By the end of the day youve worked him tired, now he cant push you away, youre gonna heal this son of a gungan if its the last thing you do. He requests a moment to himself, so you check on his little one, resting in the small nest you made of blankets on your work table. He likes being in a small closed space to sleep, opting to bury himself in the blankets to a comfortable dark cocoon.

Picking up a fresh pack of bacta patches and your bioscanner, you head out into your seating area to look over his healing progress. His healing is remarkably fast now that the bacteria is out of his system, little cuts fading into a slightly lighter green scar barely visible to the eye. Whatever this tiny guy is, hes special, you can feel that so strongly for some reason.

“His infection has subsided already, at this rate he should be fine come sunrise tomorrow” 

The child still runs a slight temperature, but given you’ve never encountered one of his species you really have nothing to compare it to. Regardless, hes alive and well, stirring in his sleep and giving little peaks of his large brown eyes for mere seconds before nodding off again. Poor thing was exhausted.

“I didn't quite catch how you two got so scuffed up”

The Mandalorian peaks his form around the frame of the door, You can see one of his arms is bare up to the elbow, a large scar of what you assume was a blaster wound runs down the length of it. You swallow and try not to stare.

“I didn’t say” he replies to you.

Your eyes follow how his other hand, gloved but armourless, as he works his knuckles in rough circles,  _ god those hands are large _ . “You shouldn’t be getting a child into dangerous situations”. Its accusatory, yes, but you hate to think of this poor little boy in peril. Also his attractiveness makes you frustrated. 

“It’s none of your business” one of his knuckles makes an audible pop.

“I'm making it my business”

You wait for his retort, he gives none. Again watching and waiting, anticipating. Another pop.

“Whatever. Whats a gunslinging blaster burned speeder thief even doing carrying around a green baby anyway?”

He huffs an odd sound, something that could be a laugh that gets scrambled in his modulator. Once again you are brushed off as he returns to mend his flesh. You scowl in his direction,  _ dumb stubborn man! _ He's lucky you even said yes to helping him.

You feel a tug to your shirt, little green claws grasp and pull on it as the child looks up at you sleepily. You pet his head, skin still so silky soft and pleasant. Yeah, he's lucky you're helping. But you know you would never turn down helping something so precious.

“Hungry lil guy?” you ask him. The child croaks. You aren't sure he even understands galactic basic.

“Hey! What kinda stuff does the little one eat?” 

“Carnivore” Mandalorian shouts back, this time missing the tin of his modulator.  _ Oh so he does take it off then. _ That's one of your many unasked questions answered.    
  
Ok. He's a carnivore. You can work with this. Your conservator had a decent selection of meats you harvested from hunting locally. Given his recent infection you decide on making a small soup with your fon fish, and fermented milk known for its probiotic properties. The little guy wriggled eagerly on your hip as you set a pot above a heating unit and begin to collect your ingredients. 

He  _ really  _ likes his meat. His legs flutter, eyes somehow widening and large ears twitching as you bring a fresh piece of fish to his mouth. He babbles and trills happily, momentarily satiated. It was just… so  _ painfully cute _ . You really don't understand why this Mandalorian person has this adorable child.  _ Is he the father? What did he fuck to make this.. _

“Your dad has a weird taste in partners lil guy”

“He's not biologically mine” 

That robotic voice speaks from just a pace behind you, surprising you, making you jump away defensively with a yelp. The Mandalorian tilts his head and watches you cover your chest in some attempt to still the frantic beating of your heart. The child cooed, entertained by your surprise.   
  
He is back, fully clothed in armour like always. Youre a little disappointed.

_ Not his?  _ “Then where did you get him from?”

“Picked him up from a target of mine” 

“So you stole a child.”

“Yeah?”

The mandalorian pitches something sarcastic in his tone, as if he was asking  _ “so what? Yeah i stole a kid. I'm a badass”  _ or so your mind spins it. You send a scowl in his direction, but you realise it translates more as a pout, your guests head tilts ever so slightly more. 

“Don’t you wonder where his parents are? If they miss him?”

“He's an unknown species. And a hunted one, I wont leave him alone”

At least his involvement with this creature was genuine and honest. Maybe he wants to keep it as a unique pet, like bragging rights, but he seems to have a lot of care for it. Who knows, you were never the most perceptive person but sometimes ignorance is bliss.

The child wriggles for more fish, and you feed him another strip. Youre sure hes more than eaten his fill of your Fon but the extra fat on his bones will probably make him more… durable, or so you tell yourself, you just like feeding him.

“I am glad he is eating again” the Mandalorian mentions, pacing your home and surveying your belongings, “im not the best with young ones” 

You can understand that, It took you a lot of practice till you figured out how to care for something young and incapable of expressing pain or feeling. But your experience with the elderly is honestly a close match. 

“Im a nurturer by nature I guess” 

“Have any of your own?” he asks, the first real question about yourself.

You cant stop a little laugh from bubbling up. You? Having children? Of course not. He finds your humor in it strange. “No, I dont, I am young and… ''normally your sense of self preservation ensures you don't say things too inappropriate to strangers, but this is different, something about him makes your brain skip some things “...I have not even had sex”

Theres an obvious tilt to his helmet that you catch at the corner of your eye, you flush,  _ oh god where did my filter go _ . He takes a seat in one of your many chairs and watches you feed and coddle his child till he is once again asleep. The little guy naps a lot, something common in small bodied creatures. 

“Perhaps it is time to turn in” Mando suggests.

_ Yeah right, no weaseling out _ . 

“For the little one? Yes. For you? We had an agreement”

He stares at you, you imagine some foreign face that never sets to something memorable, squinting, glaring at you, maybe even pouting. Hes so bloody hard to read. 

“I heard you speaking with Yel’len, you Mandalorians commit to your promises dont you?”

“If I’m paid well”

“Im paying you with proper medical aid!”

“Not a very good deal” 

“stop being stubborn.”

Hes being a brat! You scowl at him and he keeps his eyes on you, shifting in his seat to spread his legs wider and brace his elbows on them. 

“Mandalorians are more than just mercenaries, were a practicing religion”

_ Oh?  _ You didnt know that. You thought it was just another faction of troopers actually but this is news.

“Are your people against medicine?” you dont understand quite.

“How can I trust you, a stranger, with my unprotected self?”

_ So its a vulnerability thing?  _ You figure  _ or maybe a respect thing? _

You figure your only real strong point “a stranger who doesn't know you has no reason to kill you, if I wanted to I would have tried already” 

You would have tried and definitely failed. Mando doesnt answer, just sighs. Your face falls for a moment, Youre actually concerned for his health, really, given you caught him burning his flesh closed and leaving it like that like some neanderthal. 

“Please. I just want to help” 

The mandalorian nods. “Yeah, you’re good. Fine”

You stand up to take this child back to his little nest to sleep and retrieve your med kit, knowing you are probably due to find a mess of scar tissue given the frequency of this man's misadventures. You have enough bacta to drown a man in your storage if you need it. If this is a full body soak it will be you demanding payment from him.

“Will you tell me how you got scuffed up?”

* * *

“So he was tracking you both for weeks and died that fast?”

“He was intelligent but weak”

“jeeze”

You help unfasten the last strap of Mandos breastplate, it comes off as a heavy weight in your hands, for just a moment you felt just how much he carries on his person before his own hands take his armour from you. His backplate follows, every motion he makes is slow with a tremble, youre sure his wound hurts immensely, but he insists on doing this himself.

“I'm glad you got out alive” you tell him.

“I've had my fair share of close calls”

The undershirt he wears opens from the front, zipper closure, and he irately tugs it down to finally reveal to you his flesh.

You bite your tongue.  _ Gods _ . 

The body of a Mandalorian is glorious. Delicious inches of tan skin, speckled in sparse moles, and etched in scars, comes to tense under your scrutiny. You feel a part of yourself flare up in interest, violent and passionate in its desire and damn you might have forgotten the task at hand.

He clears his throat.

“right” 

Your patient needs help. His valiant efforts paid off, he just has a few  _ deep _ gashes to deal with. The quick cauterisation prevented a bleed out, but he will probably have some nerve damage, the cut runs deep from three puncture sites and one slash. That fucking monster, youre glad he got vaporised and the child was safe once again

You get your tools. You need to clear the burns, suture the remaining cuts on his chest and arms, and get him bacta’ed the hell up. Hes going to hurt in the morning, it took all your good will not to kick his ass when he once again refused your medical aid in preference to burning the fuck out of his skin and calling it a day. You're  _ not _ letting him do that again.

He leans back on the wooden chair, creaking at his weight, and spreads his thighs apart to give you space to perch on your own smaller stool, but god the position is… comfortable. More than comfortable, you can feel his body heat radiating off him, even the baskar on his thighs is warm. You let him get in a comfortable position, hands draped in his lap, before you proceed. Minding every wince and grunt he makes as you clean his cuts. 

You don't like that its hurting him, but it’s either this or he risks an infection, or another improperly healed scar. There's something quite…  _ pleasant _ , the way his chest rises, the hiss of him drawing a breath through his teeth as you sew each suture, the way he tenses his legs and you feel them quake at your sides before relaxing. Every tense brings a shift in his hips, every shift brings him closer, you have to suppress a sigh of your own when you feel the press of his groin against your belly.

_ dear gods,  _ this should be illegal. It feels hot, it feels… exciting, You shift against him and note how he sucks in a particularly deep breath, maybe it's a mutual feeling?

You move from the gash closest to his left collar to a puncture near his right armpit. Hand braced on his pectoral as you worked, He seems to numb to the pain quickly which you are only slightly upset about, you liked his little whines, but it makes for sewing his wounds shut a lot easier.

Theres at last seven different sets of sutures, marks oof blaster fire from ages old cleaned also, what doesnt get protected by armour is matted with scars, you can tell he's been through a lot. Lastly you bring out fresh bacta patches, fast healing, the most convenient substance you can think of.

“how are you feeling?” you ask Mando.

“ive felt worse”

it's a jab for humor, and you feel yourself smile at him, even a huff of a laugh. You might be smitten, but fuck it, maybe you deserve a little time with a mysterious heartthrob bounty hunter.

You rest your palms on his bare chest, so warm under your hands, and let yourself survey your work one last time, as well as the body available to your eyes. You have no idea when the next time you will see his skin again may be, if ever.

A shift in fabric catches your attention, you watch Mandos hands slide from his thigs to rest at your waist, he draws you in closer with visor trained in your direction. You feel a rush of something foreign and long forgotten with your weary life of solitude, thighs pressing together, mouth watering.

His palms run from your waist up, spanning across your ribs and up further, skimming the outsides of your breasts with his thumbs, you feel them press against the soft flesh for just a moment before the sensation is gone and his palms run across your shoulders and down your back,  _ gods _ . it feels so damn  _ sensual _ to be touched like this and your skin tingles in the wake of his warmth.

“stand” Mando commands, and you obey, all you can think of is pleasing him.

You brace your hands on his thighs to raise yourself, legs weak, trembling with excitement. His hands never leave your body somehow, the feel of him rubbing his thumbs over your hip bones now, down your thighs, back up to give your ass a generous squeeze which makes you squeak.

“turn around”

Again, you see no room to argue, you can somehow tell you're in good hands, gentle hands, that guide you around to face away from him. “good girl” he purrs, there's something deeper in his voice and you feel a definite throb between your thighs. “now-” he begins, urging you backwards till you are seated on his lap, thighs spread around his own, he nudges his own legs wider to force yours open.

Your breath stutters but he shushes you, a metallic but comforting sound. He runs his hands down your front again, he loves to feel your body, all your softer edges and delicate skin, all those he’d known were probably battle hardened warriors.

The mandalorian has no hesitation to his movements, you feel the first press of his fingers to the outside of your leggings and you gasp, legs twitching to close but held open by his larger presence, you hear a deep chuckle from behind you again. Hes in complete control, the feeling is scary, erotic, your head is swimming with a pleasant warmth that can only focus on him and the sensations of your skin,

His fingers press again, a slow brush down the length of your slit and back over and over again, the fabric of your pants irritatingly present and dulling the sensations. You soon find yourself desperately wanting more, hips shifting against Mandos hand but nothing will make him move but his own desire. 

You hear his groan and his hips buck beneath you, and you roll your hips back in response, something foreign seemingly possessing your body to continue a fluid motion, back and forth. Mandos fingers become aggressive, building you up while barely touching you, and you whine, needy and desperate for more. 

“You like that, huh?” He huffs, “keep moving, i’ve got you”

You pray he makes good on his word. Breathless pleas, begging for anything more to soothe the ache of desire throbbing between your legs, just beneath his fingers. He likes the sounds you make, as every whine you make seems to add to his own pressing hips. 

Finally his hand snakes up to your waistband and dives in, the baskar on the back of his hand catching just for a moment, but the first direct touch of his fingers to your bare clit makes stars burst behind your eyelids.  _ Gods _ , his fingers are sinful, you wish the gloves were gone so badly, wish to have them buried deep in your cunt.

You have never felt so needy in your life.

“Please” you whine. Again he circles his fingers around your clit with just the right amount of force to make your legs shake against his thighs. You're going to come just from this, and it will be the first time in years you've come from another person, you're wound so tight you fear this final release might take you out. 

“you close?” he asks you, sounding strained. 

You are unsure how to respond, brain quickly becoming liquid as your throat struggles to produce anything more than desperate whines and moans. His deft fingers draw you out till its too much to bare. Very quickly the tense coil within you snaps, your hands grip at Mandos wrists as youre overcome by wave after wave of searing pleasure. 

Your thighs shake and struggle to snap closed on the hand that continues to work your tired clit, the aftershocks stealing your breath and leaving you writhing into his lap, meeting his increasingly rough thrusts beneath you till he too seems to follow your path. You hear his panting by your ear grow harsher, more strained, and overwhelmingly sexy, till his hands around your waist tightened and he finishes with a handful of hard jolting thrusts against your ass.

_ Fuck. thats hot. _

You rest back against him panting, listening to his own hard breaths through his helmet. You feel bad for him leaving it on, it's probably sweaty under there, you reach up and tap the side of his mask. 

You ask him with a breathless laugh “Warm in there?”

“Yeah”

“You can take it off, I wont look”

“No” 

_ Ok then. _ You note that the moon has reached its peak in the sky outside, the sound of the bellbeetles in the swamp ring in the distance and tell you its time you turned in for sleep. You stretch your relaxed limbs out away from your resting bodies, knuckles and elbows popping in a pleasant way, and Mando helps unhook your knees from over his thighs. 

He catches you as well, when your weakened legs buckle once you stand. Your heart beats in your ears as his strong hands hold you steady by the waist once more, as if he cant keep his hands away from you.

“Sorry” some instinct of yours always apologises for the little things. Mando shakes his head. “You should rest, todays been.. Tiring”

“Yeah” you agree. 

He waits a beat longer, enjoying the feeling of your body close to his before giving your hip one last squeeze and steps away. Before he disappears into the guest room you top him. “mando?”. 

“Hm?” he stops in his tracks, expectant. 

“T-thank you”

“.... it was my pleasure”

Its cheesy, maybe he intended it to be, but you leave him with a giggle you cant quite hold back. His head tilts and you see his shoulders move with his own huffed laugh. “G’night” 

“Good night” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake the morning after. Have a nice breakfast, get dicked, and go to town with your space boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iM NOT GOING TO LIE i am very stoned. i wrote a lot of this. very stoned. I live in australia and everything is on fire right now but its ok because mando is good. anyway. have this!

You end up sleeping in by accident, the crowing of the birds outside waiting for seed usually wakes you up, but someone seems to have gotten to that ahead of time. You awaken to the warmth of midday as the light comes through your small window.

Getting out of bed, groggy and disheveled, you make your way into your living area to pour yourself a mug of caff. Outside you hear your fowl flock chirping, the gentle rustle of the trees in the wind, you come out to find your,  _ ahem, the _ Mandalorian looking over your meagre livestock with his little green child sitting on the fence.

“Good morning!” you shout out to the duo, the child is distracted, entertained by your fowl, but the one you truly vy for the attention of turns his helmet in your direction and greets you with a nod. You imagine he might be smiling at you behind that visor. 

Your bedclothes are short, very much so, but it helps balance the humid heat of nighttime. You boldly descend your rickety stairs and approach, but his eyes don't leave you.

“Lovely morning isn't it?” you smile up to him. His modulator crackles a little, shoulders settling, you believe it to be a sigh. “Yeah” he mutters back, His child squeaks and waves his small hands towards your pen. 

“He can pet them if he wants, i'm sure they won't bite”

“I'm more worried about  _ him _ biting”

“Oh?” 

Mando tilts his head towards the pond to the other side of your little home. “He's already had his fill of toads from your pond”

So the child very much is a carnivore. You're kind of thankful, those toads are a pest species that doesnt shut up come the season üme, one known more for heat and dryness. The faster those toads are gone the better.

“Its fine, he can be my little toad catcher” 

Mando huffs a laugh and you take a drink of caff with a smile. Its so pleasantly domestic in a way. You wonder what will happen after today, his little one is clearly healthy, there is no reason to stay any longer. 

“Would you like to come in for some breakfast? Caff?” 

He shakes his head. You don’t remember him eating at all the day prior.  _ Oh, it must be.  _ “Is it because of the?” you point to your head “helmet?” He nods.  _ Ah, that's how it is.  _

“How about I make up some breakfast for us. I can sit outside with the child and you can eat inside?” you want to make something work for him. He's your guest, and you have more than gotten over the little speeder heist of his.

“That sounds.. Ok” 

You kind of wish you could see him, your curiosity is absolutely piqued, but you have respect for him. A stronger part of you just wants to have a meal and talk with him like any two people could. But you can settle for shouting at him from your porch.

You all come inside where its a touch cooler away from the sun, you decide an omelet is the easiest thing to make that won't overwhelm the stomach against this heat. You are too used to the feeling of nausea every time you ate during üme, when the humidity settled in your gut and moving felt like it took all your energy.

Together you head indoors, you taking the stairs first and feeling a crawling excitement as he watches you from the bottom till you're at the very top,  _ bet you liked that view _ , you spare him a glance before making your way to the kitchen to turn on the hotplate nestled in the back.

Mando moves off to your workspace, stating the child had to rest with his little full belly while you retrieve your eggs, vegetables, and the remainder of your crested hog meat. From the other room you hear him muttering things, speaking to the child, you find it very sweet, he really loves that little dude.

He comes back out childless but all his attention on you. He leans over the middle island, shoulder height on him from the lower level, but just below the ribcage on yourself from the other side. This home was built for a taller person for sure, long before you hermitcrabbed your way in with the help of the towns people.

“Hope you like eggs” you grin to him before turning and stirring the mix, slowly turning a pale fluffy yellow till its folded over itself twice and repeat the process with the other half of the mixture. You both are quiet mostly, you enjoying the feeling of being watched, and him enjoying the view of your long bare legs. 

When finished you hand him a plate and fork. You sit outside on the porch with your back against the wall, and on the other side, mando does the same, leaving the door open just a breadth so that you two can exchange conversation. This works. And He came up with the idea, you had almost forgotten what it felt like to be this… wanted?

_ This is nice.  _

You talk about yourselves really. Theres a lot more to Mando once you get him talking, he doesnt entirely like talking about the past, but when he gets into his stories, wow, theres something endearing in how he chuckles, and how pleasant his voice sounds without the modulator. 

“So you believe his home to be further than the outer rim?” you ask him.

“From what i've been pointed to, maybe. Ive still yet to meet anyone who even knows what he is”

You honestly dont know yourself, the child was unique in many ways, and thats without mentioning the apparent telekinesis. 

“I guess we can only hope for an answer” you decide. 

“Till then, he is my son. Ill protect him with my life, this is the way”   
  


You hear the clink of Mando’s plate touching the floor, yours too had been long since finished while your conversations ran long. From the height of the sun you have probably been talking for two hours at least. Breakfast is over.

“Perhaps we should head back to the town, I have been wanting to check in with the traders for speeder parts”

Mandos voice comes back to you with the strain of his modulator again.

“Sure, I should get supplies for the ship” 

You are reminded again that yes, he will be leaving soon. Though such short time you can already tell you will miss his presence.

“Yeah, Ill wash up” you stand, now knowing hes safely shrouded in that  _ stupid sexy _ helmet. You poke your head around the corner of the doorframe to see him sitting on the floor still, legs crossed, hands in his lap, looking up at you. He tilts his head slightly at you and you smile. Leaning down to scoop up his plate from beside him.

He takes hold of your arm on the way, halting you leaned over beside him. He eyes you through the visor carefully before speaking. “Id like to thank you for your hospitality, if you will allow me to”.

He has already paid for medical treatment, and has more than paid for a few nights stay with his labour help. Its only after a beat that your mind catches up.  _ Oh _ .  _ oooh. _ Thats what he meant. What a gentleman.

You feel your cheeks heat instantly. “You really don't have to, you don't owe me anything”

“I insist” 

_ He wants me.  _ The heat in your cheeks can now be closely matched to the heat already pooling in your belly just remembering the other night, how his deft thick fingers brought you to the edge without so much as penetrating you. Whatever else he could do you will gladly receive.

“That-” your throat feels thick, you clear it and try again. “I would like that” 

_ Like? I’d love that, come get me.  _

He stands beside you and follows you to the kitchen, your senses are all on high, excitement prickling along your skin. What could he want to do? Will he fuck you? Will he use his fingers again, and bring you over the edge again and again, waste the day indulging in each others bodies. You could totally do that, to hell with speeder parts. 

You deposit the plates in the sink as he stands in the only way out of the kitchen, like a predator cornering his prey, but you are not afraid, you're excited, practically giddy at the thought of his hands on your skin once more. 

“Come here” he commands of you, and you obey, coming to stand right before him. You watch as he slowly unclasps the fastens of his gloves, sliding the thick fabric off his hands slow and methodical. “I regret leaving these on last night” he states “I want to know your warmth”, gods, if you could swoon any further you would. 

The gloves fall on the countertop with a heavy thud to your side, the one that reaches high on your frame, and decide its a suitable place, to hell with going to bed too. To hell with anything that isnt bending over for this man  _ right now _ . 

You stare up at him, waiting for your next directive from him, and are thrilled when his bare hand comes to caress the side of your face. His skin is so warm, calloused but used with such a delicate touch you could barely notice. They brush your cheek, thumb passing down the bridge of your nose to rest on your lips. You kiss the tip of his thumb, tongue darting out to taste the salt of his skin before he presses down your lower lip, gently nudging your mouth open.

“Perhaps one day I may kiss you” he muses.

_ Gods, yes, stay, be here with me.  _

You want to respond to Mando, but the wide pad of his thumb pushes into your mouth and presses down on your tongue, exactly where you want it. Your lips wrap around the digit and suck gently, tongue working against him, your taste buds tingle and damn you might be drooling. 

Just as soon as its introduced he withdraws his soaked digit and drags the moisture down your chin to your neck, leaving a small chill in its wake. You cant hold back a trembling sigh, his other hand finds purchase on your hip, toying with the edge of your shirt and running tantalising fingers just beneath. 

“You are…” he trails his hand upward, skimming your ribs and spanning your back, drawing unseen patterns across your flesh and back down again “perhaps the softest thing ive ever felt”. He says so reverently, your mind swims, and his hands come to grip the hem of your shirt and invert it over your head. 

“Softer than the child?” you ask coyly.

He huffs a laugh, that scratchy voice of his heavy with his growing arousal. “Yeah, much softer”. He enjoys the way your skin gives under his fingers instead of staying taut like the muscle he was used to on desperate nights with bunkmates, you are the sweet curves and fragile skin he’d been denied so long. Mando sighs deeply, you are turned and leaned against the countertop as he takes a breast in each hand.

His groan is maddeningly arousing, paired with the sensation of his fingertips brushing across your nipples and massaging you in slow motions. You press your hips back against his groin and sigh at the distinctive feeling of his hard cock against your ass, straining against the material of his slacks. You  _ want _ it _.  _

You feel your cunt pulse in excitement. God do you want it.

And he clearly does too, hips pressing back hard and forcing your belly into the edge of the countertop. Your hands span out on the cool wooden top, leaning further over and he follows you grateful with a roll of his hips and a hiss through his vocoder. The hands on your breast smooth down to your hips and with an abrupt tug you are lifted onto the surface before you, ass in the air, and feet dangling high off the ground.

The only thing really keeping you up was the hard press of Mandos hips, and his strong hands supporting you, spanning your ass and eagerly groping the flesh. “You will let me fuck you” he says, not a question, a statement you both already know is agreed upon and you moan your agreement. 

You feel the barely there fabric of your sleep shorts shift against your pussy as his thumb pushes it to the side and slides along your folds, the sensation of his bare fingers on you already worlds better than the pads of his gloves that brought you to completion the night prior, he hisses at the feel of you. “Fuck, youre already soaking”, you wriggle your hips against his hand, wishing you could push back against it, to feel any part of him inside you, but your feet have no ground. He controls everything.

And he  _ knows _ that's what you want. He pulls your shorts off slowly, trailing his fingers down your thighs and they are discarded wherever your shirt has disappeared to, his fingers are back on your heated sex immediately, two fingers seeking out your clit and you swear the sound you make can only be called a purr. 

“You like that?” he sighs behind you. You nod, and let your forehead fall to the wood below you, you trust him to take care of you, already feeling the pleasant tingle at the base of your spine. He circles your clit steadily, pad of his thumb so lightly pressing against your entrance and you just wish he would put it in you, but he's teasing, taking his time with you like a predator toying with his food.

Mando sounds strained through his helmet, you can hear him breathing heavier, if only he’d just take it off. You want to feel the press of his lips to the skin of your neck, his mouth on your aching cunt, to hear his groans and sighs for real. You whimper, train of thought derailed as the pleasant attention of your clit is redirected, finally, his fingers gently press into you. Shallow but so wonderfully thick, hes barely getting to his first knuckle and you already feel the wonderful bite of him stretching you.

“Have you been taken before” he asks. You honestly don't quite know, your past is unknown, but you  _ have _ explored your own body. Your voice sounds huskier than you're used to “not.. not another man, just myself”

He groans. 

“Just yourself huh? How many fingers?” 

You feel your skin heat just as he sinks two thick fingers in to the second knuckle without hesitation. You let out another whimper and kick your feet lightly against his calves. Mando withdraws them, dragging your slick down to rub hard at your clit for all of a handful of seconds, making you wail, before plunging them back inside you and starting the cycle again.

“I asked you a question, How many?”

“Three” 

“Then you will take  _ my  _ three”

Your head lolls against the wood to watch him out of the corner of your eye. Your three fingers are much smaller than his, and your blood burns with excitement. Youre already so full with barely two, and when his fingers push deeper you gasp weakly like he’d stolen the very breath from your lungs. He seeks a part of you, brushing in gentle rolling motions against your inner walls till he hits a spot you've never known, stars flash behind your eyelids and you whimper “please-”

The Mandalorian groans a pleased sound. “You feel amazing on my fingers” he purs, draping his body over your back as if to whisper in your ear, raspy and drenched in lust. His weight pins you down before he begins his assault, two fingers taking to roughly thrusting in and out, every time curling and perfectly hitting that painfully wonderful spot within you.

The sounds you make are embarrassing, but all you can do is whimper and moan and cry for more till he has your legs shaking. You are right on the edge, you can feel it, but you can feel him withdraw as well. 

“Please mando- Im so”

“close? I know”

He just doesn't  _ care _ . You're letting him do whatever he wants for the sake of your pleasure, but your foggy mind cries at the loss of his fullness, at the feel of his fingers daring to trail your slick down the backs of your thighs. You plead again. and again. 

“impatient” he calls you, a teasing edge of mirth to his voice. 

“you said- you said this was thanks” you whine in response.

“I assure you-” The hand to your thigh rises again, lighter this time, till the tips of his fingers were just barely grazing your cunt “-you will be thoroughly pleased-” you feel three this time, his middle finger pressing to your clit in an almost too gentle circle while the two others caress your lips, he drags it down, down, to your dripping entrance. “- only when I decide you can”

Three fingers gently prod at you, slick, daunting, and you sob. You want it so bad. 

“Now be a good girl and take it”

You all but scream as three of Mandos thick fingers push inside you, angled perfectly like before, stretching you so far it toes the line between pleasure and pain. His assault is relentless, fingers pounding into that spot within you and drawing your orgasm to its peak in a matter of seconds. You come hard, shaking, a pitched sigh leaving you as he continues to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm till your moans become sobs and your cunt aches. 

The black spots in your vision slowly clear and you feel your body move slightly, Mando murmurs some words that flitter about the space of your ears that you just can seem to grasp in this state of numb bliss. He shifts more, hands moving in the space behind your thighs.   
  
You raise your head to look over your shoulder at the Mandalorian, and you find him somewhat distracted. His pants hang open, shrugged just low enough to free his member and  _ gods _ you feel your mouth water. He is everything you expected and more, thick and aggressively red, slick with his fingers, once buried in your cunt, now coating himself with your cum. You watch his foreskin roll over the head and bead with precome, he sighs, and you find his visor locked to your face once more.

You move to prompt him, but he hushes you, reminding you again this was all at his mercy, till you feel the thick blunt head of his cock press between the apex of your thighs. Its an odd sensation, but pleasant, you feel the prominent head and vein that spans it passing through your labia as he begins a round of gentle thrusts between your legs.

Finally, given a chance for some control, you press your knees together, tightening the space just so and Mando’s head rolls forward with a groan, he likes that, and his hips piston just that bit harder in response. Every thrust dragging his length against your clit with slick movements, you tense your thighs again.

“F-uuuck”    
  
_ fuck is right, _ Hearing Mando vocalise like this does sinful things to your cunt, you feel your walls twitch as sensitivity slowly comes to you. You want him.  _ Need him _ . “Please. Mando, In me, put it in..” Your mind is so foggy, lust controlling your every movement and leaving you dizzy. He hears you and has no thought to hesitate.

He lines himself with your entrance, you feel a tremble to his hands, overeager and excited, before pushing in slowly. You are so wet already that he presses in to the hilt with no resistance, filling you completely, that familiar pinch of a stretch adding to the heat in your blood. 

Theres something animalistic in the way the Mandalorian takes you, Thrusts heavy and haphazard. Hands planted by your shoulders, and the weight of his helmet baring down between your shoulder blades, you're sure if it were off he’d be a biter. Every thrust holds the weight of his whole body, using his natural size and strength to fuck into you. You feel the wood top of the counter dig into your thighs and you just know you will be bruised by this.

The sounds your bodies make are lewd and loud, wet eager slapping mingled with your breathless moans and Mandos synthesized panting and grunts, Its perhaps the most erotic thing youve ever experienced. Its almost overwhelming. 

Mando shifts, gripping you by the hips to opt for more stability, he tugs you back just enough so to reach a hand between your thighs just as his thrusts pick up pace. Hes close, but determined to take you with him, fingers rubbing against your clit rapidly while he himself descends into a cacophony of messy thrusts and loud unbidden moans. You are thrown over the edge alongside him, his last jarring thrusts hitting just right to make your toes curl, filling you with his spend as he tightly holds onto your body with shaking arms.

Fuck. he could break you. And you would let him.

You have never felt so satisfied, so  _ warm _ . Left satiated and panting. You could get used to this. His weight on your back is welcome, sticky with sweat pressed to his heated breastplate, you sigh deeply and hear Mando sigh out his own deep breath. 

“That was…” you realise when speaking how out of breath this has left you. “That was wonderful, thank you”. From behind you the Mandalorian coughs a weak laugh, you feel him rise from your form when his hand comes to slap you in the thigh playfully, you yelp. “It was  _ me _ thanking  _ you _ ” he corrects you.

You don't care to hold back the moan that slips from your lips as you feel him pull his softening member out of you, you twitch at the loss of him, raw but thoroughly pleased. Slowly you lower yourself back to the floor, arms still braced on the countertop because you don't quite know if your legs can hold you yet. 

Looking over your shoulder you see Mando re-fastening his belt, watching you. 

You turn to him with a small laugh. “Shall we head to town then?”

The Mandalorian nods.

* * *

Somehow, your trusty  _ shitty  _ speeder lasts another trip into town.

The Mandalorian insisted on piloting while you sat back and held the child with your arms wrapped around his middle. You like the feeling of pressing to his back even with this pesky metal in the way, hes large and solid and warm, even his little one enjoys his physical proximity.

“Do traders come through often?” he asks as you dismount, taking your hand to guide your descent like some gentleman. “Not often, we aren't resource rich so we aren't worth it to most traders”. Your planets main exports are basic mineral composites, and the meat of a rare sea creature known to give you grand hallucinations. But a little land locked swamp town? You’d be lucky to see new tech more than once a month. 

You strap a loose beige cloth across your torso and pick up the little green child, he squeaks excitedly, “c’mon lil dude” you jitter back, slipping his small form close to you in the sling. Hes secure and safe, as Mando had warned you of his little habit of… wandering off. You promise to keep him safe.

  
  


The township, Tversia, is closest to your home, Home to a mix of life, Some human, some close enough, a small handful of Droids who can handle the moisture and heat. Its unique, you think, as most species tend to be drawn to their own kind. Everyone has made a life for themselves here.

The local trade fields are built on open marshland, flat and bare with long grass that, if it werent for your leggings, would be driving your skin mad with itchiness. Several ships are landed which is promising, you chose a good time, and feel a skip to your step as you approach while Mandos lumbering form follows slowly behind.

At first you don't notice, but it becomes quite obvious at the silence hanging around you, that something isn't quite right. The chattering of the tradesmen and their victims is a hushed murmur, you feel the eyes on you, watching. Mando stands not too far behind you and you turn to him.

His stature is off, more defensive, hes got his eyes elsewhere, watching everyone else watch the two of you. For all of a moment you fear an attack, they happen sometimes when the wrong people stray too close or too far, but the bustle picks back up soon after much to your relief.

“Did you do something bad? What did you do?” you ask the Mandalorian accusingly under your breath. He doesnt respond, choosing now to revert to his original quiet self,  _ so thats how were doing this?  _ Whatever. You head straight for the back corner of the shed to find your main go-to, Geko, a Besalisk mechanic who nabs the best parts of your ship he can get before anyone makes it offworld. He thinks youre pretty, and you are only a little ashamed to admit you take advantage of that for a discount. Just a little.

“My little pond lily! I worry when you dont come back! Is been many cycles” Geko exclaims as you approach, spreading his four strong arms wide to wrap you in a hug, you brace, waiting for the scent of motor oil and bodysweat to assault you like always _ ,  _ but the hulking man slows himself. Eyes pinching into a glare as he stares over your shoulder, “You have Mandalorian? Where you find him”

“Geko, this is-” ... _ wait whats his name? _ You look back at Mando, his gaze is fixed ahead of you at your Besalisk ‘friend’, looks like hes not going to tell you it any time soon, “this is my patient, He was injured and needed my help” you tell a half lie. 

“Ah, the one who didnt trust my med droid!” 

You scoff “ _ your med droid? _ You mean the astromech you rigged with a stimpak injector? Thats not a med droid!” Geko waves you off with a growl, If that droid isnt here in the tradefield it means some poor idiot bought it, theyre probably going to bleed out or overstim and have a heart attack.

Their problem, you have your own purchase to make. “Im looking to fix the repulsorlift in my speeder, what do you have?” you ask him. He lights up again, now ignoring the looming presence around you as he excitedly takes your hand in two of his and drags you into his workshop to show you what hes managed to nab.

You notice the Mandalorian linger for a bit before disappearing on his own, probably to get his own supplies while you negotiate parts and repair costs. It takes a good hour, but you manage to barter yourself a decent deal at the cost of feeling the hard aggressive hand of this predictable beast grope at your ass while you hand over a hundred and fifty credits. You hate it, but you need that damn speeder.

“Now, get that Mandalor! I will buy his helmet yes?” he joke. Yeah sure. Like he will. “I dont think he would give that to you” 

“What about this? What is in this?” He pokes at the cloth around your middle. You feel the bundle move as the child nuzzles in closer, probably napping more and irritated by the disturbance. “This is nothing, just carrying some fruit home” good lie, normal lie. He shrugs it off. You turn to leave the store forcing a laugh “haha- I will bring my speeder to you in a week, thanks again babe” your voice is dripping in a false sweetness that he eats up like hes starving. The fool. 

When you make your way back into the main hub of the tradefield you find Mando seated at a low table speaking with someone, probably a passerby, the person is dressed in sparse armour with a hefty looking blaster strapped to his back. They speak to eachother in hushed voices, something is  _ definitely  _ going on. Speeder bike thief things. For a moment you had forgotten the Mandalorians questionable lifestyle prior to being your  _ patient _ .

You approach them, catching Mandos attention first of all, and suddenly the little bundle on your chest comes to life, the child wriggling his little head out between the crossing fabric to look at his imprinted ‘father’. Its like he could sense we were near his favorite person, the sweet thing. 

“I’ve taken care of my speeder booking” you tell him, he nods. And mentions for you to sit with him. 

“I have just been given some useful information regarding to why I landed here” 

“You mean you didnt land here just for medical aid?” you question   
  
“..no”

You feel like hes lying, he was clearly very distraught over the state of his little one when he came to you that morning. Maybe hes trying to seem tough. You push it to the back of your mind.

  
“Thank you for alerting me to this” Mando nods to the stranger before you. They nod back, and smile a row of concerningly sharp teeth. “I am just passing on a message for a friend, Mando, return to Nevarro some time” they grin back. 

You are confused, definitely missing some information, and you decide once home you will bring out your datapad and learn more about what Mandalorian are. You feel Mandos fingers brush under your chin, tilting you to look back to him, he holds your eyes just long enough to feel strangely intimate before he drops a few light pats to his child's head. 

_ Was that, like a kiss? _

“We should return home, it may not be safe for you here” he tells you.

_ Oh? _

“What did you do?” you ask

“Nothing yet. But tonight I must leave” your heart sinks. “I will explain everything back at your home” 

He seems too eager to leave the tradefields, you immediately worry, and know the child feels your anxiousness as well as it seeks out your warmth for comfort, you pet him to calm his nerves. Mando nods to the stranger, and you nod to them too in thanks, before he takes you by the hand and leads you out, you feel an immediate sense of danger, a prickle in the air. And from the corner of your eye you see Mando draw his blaster into his right hand. 

_ Gods _ . 

You are tugged behind him before you have a chance to speak. “Get down” he commands as a blasterbolt ricochets off his chestplate into the sand at your feet.  _ FUCK _ . Your hands instinctively rise to protect the small bundle on your chest and duck behind a tradetent, you watch as Mando fires back and moves for his own cover closer to his target.

In the distance you see two black dressed figures, and between them a littering of men in white stormtrooper armour crouching behind low structures and walls, firing at Mando whos taken refuge in the bare space of a houses deep doorframe. He leans out for just a moment and lands two shots, sending one trooper back wth a smoking hole in their visor, before he leans back in to recentre himself.

He kills with practiced confidence, with such ease that its almost uncanny. One of the black figures darts off to the left while the other advances on him with a speed unnatural for any ordinary person, they grab him by the bicep and wrench him to the ground, He struggles some but swiftly grabs the knife sheathed on his belt and thrusts it into the side of his assailant. They shriek, something femenine but distorted.

You watch as Mando rolls to his feet and immediately back to his blaster, landing shot after shot on the black figure, they show a minimum amount of damage, if they're hurt they're not letting it be seen. They lunge for him again, they dont seem to have any weapons on hand themself, but brute strength seems to be their thing. Another lunge and they slam into him, knocking them both down again, The knife worked last time, and this time he aims higher, dragging it as he does so. 

The scream the figure lets out is metallic and terrifying, it flees, but as it crawls away their clothes snag and show shining chrome. Whatever it is, it hits you deep in the uncanny valley, clearly robotic but movements eerily organic, it writhes as sparking blue therofluid pours from a gaping cut in its body. Its dying is too human, limping, slow movements as it retreats. Mando reaches behind for the rifle clipped to his back, approaches, and stabs it once more with the electro prod in its bayonet.

Fuck. 

What the fuck. 

You are scared to know where the other one went. You want to be as close to Mando as possible, if he can kill it, youd much rather have him around. You duck out from the cover hesitantly, he holds his hand up to you to  _ ‘wait’ _ , he draws his blaster close and paces slow, scanning around him for any remaining threats. For now you are safe, and couldn’t get into his arms fast enough. 

He holds you close and only then do you realise you are shaking, He pets your hair gently “i am sorry, lets get you home where youre safe, is the little one okay?” You nod, opening the fabric swath to show the little green child staring up with wide scared eyes, his little lip quivers and he reaches for Mando. 

He lifts him out of the bundle and into a light hug, the little thing favoring being nestled close to the crook of Mandos elbow with his big opposite hand blanketing the tiny body. “Perhaps you should drive, if thats alright with you?” he suggests looking up from his child.

“Yeah, thats fine, lets go home”

“I think I… broke something”

This man is a mess. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also i realised i wrote too much in this chap so im cutting it in half and posting the next chap in a few days to give me more time to work on the last chapter <3 enjoyyyy


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Men are stubborn when it comes to injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise this took so long!  
> Good news tho my town didnt burn down in the fires! I moved to a new home and have no internet so its taken me quite a while to actually get this chapter out im so sorry
> 
> (Content warning: Graphic depictions of medical practices, blood, and good ol fuckin)

You return home just as the glow of the mother planet disappears behind the mountainline and the new dull blue of the distant asteroid belt shines light down like thousands of tiny moons, flecking the night sky with large blobs that disorganise the placement of stars further out. 

Part of you remembers an inky sky with just one perfect orb shining down, and the flickering of the stars only displaced by the occasional moving red blip. But this sky has grown on you, unique and beautiful in its own odd way. Your reminiscing is cut short as you round the last bend of cleared trees, the marshlands that lead to your home, and the ponds and their tiny croakers stay as quiet as the reeds that dare not shift in the still of night. 

Its as if the world around you was as tense as you feel.

Pressed against you back the Mandalorian shifts, and behind you the coo of his child sounds. Hes probably hungry, both of them. And  _ someone _ has another injury to take care of.

Your speeder comes to a slow halt, the dying motor sputtering but not quite on its last breath, not yet, and you dismount, taking with you the Child and the hand of your patient and protector. Mando curses under his breath waking the short distance to the stairs, and moreso as he ascends them.

He makes a bline for the spare room you lent him while you look over the little one, looking up at you with his massive eerie eyes, equal parts adorable and intimidating in an odd way, the little dude has a lot of power in him. No wonder people are so eager to get their hands on him.

You carry him into the kitchen space and retrieve a sizeable piece of leftover fowl meat from the refrigerator unit. Those huge eyes following your movements but clearly  _ hungrily _ locked on the meat. You have to tear the white meat apart into smaller, less choke inducing sizes, for the little one to eat and boy does he  _ eat _ . Sitting around watching his dad fight must have worked up an appetite. 

“How do they keep finding you little guy?” 

“These tracking beacons” The Mandalorian tosses a clip of trackers to the counter beside you, you hadnt even heard him approach, seven flashing beacons in different states of damage sit there dauntingly beside their target. “They’re locked onto the child's biosignature, I don’t know how many of them there are out there” 

_ Damn _ . so long as the child exists he can be traced, and theres no way you can separate that man from his son, theres a lot of love in those little gestures of his. His doting nature, the little conversations you hear from the other room as he rouses the little one from sleep or puts him down to nap. You dont blame him at all.

Activating the central button of the beacon ignites the tip that holds a steadily rapid beeping pattern, you find when turning the beacon towards the child the beeping gets faster, and as you back away it slows. Damn. thats going to be a problem.

“Isn't there a main source that sends them all the signal?” you question. Meanwhile, the Mandalorian hobbles to your living area using his rifle as an aid, taking weight off his right leg and grasping at his ribs. You half think hes been hurt on purpose just for the chance of more… hands on encounters, but the whining croak of his voice when he sits is more than signal enough. Ok, maybe he  _ did  _ break something. Or at least pull a really bad muscle.    
  
You aren't sure if its safe or not to try to get away with another good fuck, let alone actually try to heal his leg. The memory of that uncanny organically moving droid and its wails of fear in death, god, you dont want to see one of those things crawling through your front door.

“The other droid got away” you muse.

Mando grunts in acknowledgment. “Got this right here the moment it shows up” he pats the Amban Rifle to his side and begins unbuckling his greaves, cursing under his breath as the strain pulls on his side. You roll your eyes. Hes endearing with his stubbornness. You leave the child to his meal with a gentle pat to his bald head and approach Mando to slap his hands away, him giving you a grunt of refusal but honestly, you knew he wanted your help.

“You got hurt right?” 

“Hm” 

“You undo the chestplate for me”

The straps are easier to remove than his chest plate thats for sure, the armour around his calf coming away heavy in your hands as two pieces. You watch as Mando flawlessly removes his own armour as if it weighed nothing, remembering the heaviness of that chestplate in your own hands earlier this day.

Damn showoff. 

You help him out of his boots following that, despite his feeble attempt to kick them off only bringing him more pain. “For an experienced and revered Mandalorian you sure get hurt a bit” you quip. 

You hear a huf from him, at least he finds some humor in this too, and you feel the heavy weight of his hand come to rest on top of your head, stopping you mid-lace on his right foot. You look up at him, confusion written all over your face.

He doesnt give you an answer to your unasked question, He simply takes a moment to brush your hair, thumb trailing across your brow bone as his long fingers reach to skim over the nape of your neck. It feels intimate, how his tilted head watches you, watches himself touching you, and the thought brings a heat to your cheeks. 

You duck your head and quickly rid him of his other boot, having him retrieve his hand from you with a sigh. 

_ What was that!? _

He doesnt give you a moment to mull it over as he reaches down, with another vocal wince mind you, to ruck up the fabric of his pant leg. Lo and behold, yes thats an angrily swelling ankle, but from the look of it nothing is broken.  _ Thank god _ . The thought of Mando completely immobilised with that freakish droid somewhere out there, you can hardly suppress the shiver.

“Is it bad?” he asks you.

“N-no, not bad, just swollen, your armour probably stopped your tibia from snapping but it honestly looks bruised” 

You hear him mutter something under his breath about beskar as you check his other leg just to be sure, the main damage is on his right side it seems. You retrieve some ice packs and bacta rich bandages to keep them in place and heal the area, meanwhile Mando unzips his shirt to survey the damage himself. You watch him press down on his ribs on his right side and hear him hiss a breath through his teeth as one of his ribs angles out in a way it definitely shouldn't.

“Yep, thats broken” you note, tearing open another set of bandages, slightly moist with their millions of tiny healing friends, bacta is awesome. 

“It got a pretty good hit in” he rubs the spot again and breaths deep. You have to swat his hands away again because he's not doing himself any favors here. You look at him pointedly. “I need to make sure you havent punctured”

Sure theres your scanner, and you  _ know _ the scanner is more accurate, but you raise yourself on your knees between his parted thighs and rest an ear on his right pectoral, hand placed on the damaged zone with fingers splayed between the spaces of his ribs.

“Breath as deep as you can” you tell him. And so he does.

Ah. Thats not good.

“Do you feel short of breath?” 

“Yeah” 

“Dizzy?”

“Quite”

_ Fuck _ . 

You pull back from him and look up to find him staring down at you. Your brow knit in concern and you wish you can shake some worry into him so you feel a little less alone in your concern. You take the scanner out of the medkit and run it over his side, it beeps thrice, and its sceen flashes your diagnosis on the screen in big red letters. “We need to get you on the table right now”

“Ive punctured my lung again” he states

_ Of course theres an again _ . 

“Yes, we need to drain the fluid build up immediately, why didnt you say anything?!” 

“Ive had broken ribs before”

Its baffling someone can be as nonchalant about a possible impending death as this man, You stand with a huff and turn to go prep your workroom when your leg bumps into something small that squeaks at you. 

Somehow the child had made its way from your kitchen down here beside you and he stares up with wide eyes. “Come little one, cant have you in the way, Daddy needs some help” You tell him. You note mando coughing to cover something behind you, but he follows with a pat to your thigh. 

“He always does this, c’mon” 

You watch as Mando picks up his child, despite shaking hands and your protests, and settles his son on his lap. “You just cant stay away can you”. The Mandalorian speaks with such a tone of affection that continues to skew your worry.

But this man and his little green son are full of surprises it seems.

You watch as Mandos gloved hand massages the tip of one of the child's large ears while it leans a small clawed hand on the exposed skin of his father. You're not too sure what is happening, but Mando lets his head rest back against the chair and the childs ears twitch with his concentration.

The discoloration in his tanned skin slowly warps and fades, and you watch with morbid curiosity as the form of his jutting out rib bone slowly moves back where it belongs. 

Ah. so this is what he was talking about. 

“He has these powers” Mando had told you over breakfast “like something I’ve never seen before, moving things with his mind, reversing damage, hes even killed a few…” 

The most sought after people in the galaxy right now are a shining metal Mandalorian warrior and his tiny green magic baby who can heal broken ribs and kill people with his mind, and they are currently right here in your living space, two big shining targets. You cant help but to huff a laugh of disbelief. 

In a matter of seconds damage that would take more than a week to heal, even with the assistance of bacta, is reversed. Its incredible. Once healed the small child falls forward slightly, large eyes blinking back exhaustion, wow. 

Before you have the chance to speak, anything from praise to astonishment to disbelief, Mando shoots up, already holding the child fast and thrusting him into your hands, Only uttering a very weak “take” before trying to hobble away on his good leg. He doesnt make it too far to wherever he was going till hes on his knees. 

“Whats going-” You wish you could have more sane activities today. You really do. But you watch as Mando hooks a hand at the neck of his helmet to angle it forward before a slow torrent of blood spills from the inside. 

Its a lot. This is all just... a lot.    
  


Three days ago all you were concerned about were the breeding patterns of your fish.

The blood runs out fast from its source, followed by a few wet coughs from the Mandalorian and he rolls over onto his side next to the puddle of bright red that slowly seeps through the floorboards. His breathing is laboured, but audibly better than it was. 

You stand there and can only really stare at him, child in your hands and slowly drifting off to sleep, and a feeling in your stomach that you too may be making a puddle somewhere. All you can muster is a feeble “what?” that sounds more a whimper than a word. 

Somehow you dont move for a good five minutes, but when the Mandalorian finally lifts himself off the floor and leans back against a hand, wiping the rim of his helmet to catch the coagulated droplets and smear them onto his gloves.

“I think…” he begins, and his voice is thick and raspy, “he didn’t know where to drain the fluid build up”

Makes sense, doesn’t change the fact he just threw up blood all over your nice old floorboards. Doesn’t change that this is the most blood you've seen outside the human body before. You take a slow cautious seat back in the spot Mando once sat in your living space and regarded him again.

“you’re going to need a shower.”

* * *

The morning greets you with an ache in your shoulders that you haven't felt since last harvest, youve been so tense recently your body is beginning to suffer, you might see if you can convince Yel’len to give you a massage in exchange for stories again because you desperately need it.

You notice something amiss immediately however. An unfamiliar little warmth at your side, you check under the light blanket to find your assumption is correct, that the child had made his way into your room last night and decided he’d rather sleep with a friend. Or at least you think so. Maybe you brought him to bed with you? You realise you dont remember making your way to bed last night, all your memory holds is bruised dark skin and blood on the floor. God you have some work to do.

Regarding your clothing, you realise you are not in your bed clothes but what you wore yesterday. You may have blocked some things out.

The child rises with you, he chirps happily at you, little arms waving for you to pick him up, to hold and hug and carry, and you are more than happy to do so. Outside you can hear the frogs and think the little one would love some breakfast, and your ponds would appreciate the lack of pests. 

You step out of your room with the child on your hip, but are surprised to find the stain, or at least most of the stain of blood, has been cleaned away. A few spots have soaked in but the bulk of it was gone. Thats one problem gone thank god. 

“Mando?” you call out. But no answer follows. You look around, the guest room is empty save for a few tools left on the corner of the bed, and a rag thats red in some spots and deep brown in others from oxidation. You try again. “Mando?”

Still no answer.

Maybe hes gone back into town, maybe the terrifying droids got to him, maybe hes in the fresher. The Mandalorian is an enigma after all, could be anywhere. You open the front door of your home to find your speeder missing  _ again _ . Its likely hes out somewhere then, you hope he comes back for both your sakes. 

“I guess its you and me for now” you speak to the child, he looks at you with those vast eyes and somewhere you feel an eager answer of “yes”. Its breakfast time after all, and hes probably itching to get out there and catch some frogs.

You carry him down the steps and move to the pond adjacent to the left of your homestead where the loudest drumming amphibians are screaming for mates. The childs little legs are already running before you even put him on the ground, hes off ducking into the tall reeds with a shriek of glee. 

Its calming, fun, a maternal warmth blooming in your chest as you watch peaks of his ears poke out and disappear again, the reeds shaking with his movements, till he waddles back out with the back legs of a large blue frog kicking in his mouth. You grin at him. 

“Thats a big one!” you congratulate him, and he swallows it down like species of small rocky fuppins on the islands coast do with their ocean catch, right before burping much too loud for a creature of his size and running off to find another. 

He catches five in total, and is more than satisfied with a stuffed little belly, he comes to you with another large frog held in his two little hands and he offers it. Your mind screams to take it, but humans just arent meant to swallow live frogs. So you reluctantly take it and put it in the breast pocket of your shirt, slimy and wet and already blooming a wet patch against your skin, but he smiles at you and runs off again to find more to give you. 

Its fine, he doesn't notice that every time your out of his line of sight you take it out and throw it as far and hard as possible to the far off ponds. And for some reason the child seems to think your breast pocket is bottomless.

By his seventh catch of the day you have to call it quits, giving the child a gentle pat to his soft head and convincing him to let go of the last little frog. “we should get ready for dad when he comes home, yes?”, he understands you, somehow, be it his crazy magic powers or maybe hes an adult in the body of a little green baby, anything could happen now, but he waves his little hands at you again and you cant resist picking him up again to carry him inside.

“How about we have a look at those beacons?”

* * *

The Mandalorain returns home just before nightfall, he’d been gone the whole damn day and you were honestly worried sick, you could tell that the child was worried too, but the proper scolding you had spent the past half hour thinking about and articulating in your mind dies when he steps across the threshold of your home with the head of the second droid hanging from his hand in a tangle of wires. 

He works fast. 

Theres something about that stance of his thats imposingly strong and damn if it doesnt remind you of the amazing sex you had the other day. And the close call with death. And the blood puddle.

“Someone was busy” was the only eligible piece of snark your mind could give you. Mando cocks his head towards you. His armour is immaculately clean, not a single stain of blood or scuff. He didnt even struggle with this kill did he? He lumbers over to where you stand at your kitchen counter, the child watches him too, the little one has been helping you fiddle with the beacons by chewing on the same screwdriver for the past half hour. 

Mando places the head on the counter space that's empty before speaking. His voice is rough, gravely, compared to the common rasp you've grown accustomed to “i think the child might be due for a nap”.

Um? You guess, he hasnt really been here all day to know whether the child has rested or not though. Youve been busy, very busy, and excited to show him some good news. You might have found a way to, at the very least, send his stalking adversaries on a wild goose chase.

You look up at him, he passes a glance between you and the child before repeating himself. 

“But wait we figured out a way-” you proceed to lift up the mangled fragment of a beacon but Mandos hand, heavy and hard, comes to grip your wrist tightly and press your hand back down on the wooden countertop.

“I need you alone” he says to you, tone quieter, but still heavy with his command.  _ Oh. ooooh _ .

Three times in a week. You feel this might be the most action you’ll ever get in your life and you’ll be damned if you let this slip. The child is placed in his little makeshift bed in the work room again and he happily settles back into it for a nap. You half assume the little guy knows somehow and would rather be asleep. 

When you peak your head around the corner you find Mando staring you down, now moved to lean back against the wall adjacent to your bedroom door, arms crossed and shoulders tensed, You can already feel the flush creeping up your skin.

“Your room” he tells you. Its a command, leaving no room for question, and settles heat in your bones that could drive you wild. Every step you take towards him is leaden, cautious but eager, as the Mandalorian draws you in without any effort at all. You are so desperate for him, for the touch of another, that you follow without hesitation. 

He is on you before you have a chance to close the door, Hand pressing between your shoulder blades and bending you at the waist over your cot, the sound of him kicking your door closed with a loud bang before feeling the cold press of mandalorian steel against the backs of your thighs.

You want to say something, the urge for a sarcastic quip or little jest to lighten the tension you feel radiating off of him, but theres something in the way he holds himself in this moment, the air of power, of domination, that he exudes clamps down on your tongue and leaves it heavy in your mouth in fear of angering him.

Hes pent up, wound tight like pressured spring, and waiting to snap.

The metal clasps of his gauntlets scrape the skin of your back as he rucks up the fabric of your tunic to expose your flesh to him, fingers running a hard line over the notches of your spine, bone by bone, dipping below the waistband of your leggings till he presses at your tailbone before roughly forcing them down your thighs along with your thin cotton panties.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me tonight” He tells you, voice thick and hoarse. “Going to take every- fuck” Mando groans, pulling your hips back till your ass is flush with his crotch, his already prominent erection grinding against you with a slow roll of his hips, “gonna take everything I give you”

You can only nod helplessly, head dipping to rest against the mattress and further bow your back, it settles an ache in your legs and spine, you aren't as flexible as you once were but the pain of the stretch melds strangely with the throbbing pressure between your legs.  _ Fuck, its hot.  _ He controls you like a puppet almost, one hand stationary on your hip as the other darts forward to grip you by the back of the neck, the sudden squeeze of his large fingers dragging a sigh from your lips and an eager push back against him.

Mando curses. The hand on your hip leaving you for a fleeting moment, you hear the clinking of metal, the slip of leather pulled through belt loops, and finally his hand is back on you accompanied by the hot press of skin against skin. Pent up is an understatement. The Mandalorian is impossibly hard and grinds his cock against the soft flesh of your ass, hot and heavy and  _ dripping _ . You wonder just how long hes been hard for, if the thought about this on his track home and just couldnt wait a single moment once he got inside.

“Are you wet for me” he asks you, you dont even need to answer, no need for a nod, as he pulls away from you just enough to angle his cock against your folds and run his length through them with a hiss “ _ fuck yes” _ . The sound is lewd, embarrassingly so, but the feeling of his cockhead passing along your clit is makes you whine like a fawnling, and the wet drag of flesh is still so audible amongst your laboured breaths. “-Need this so bad, baby” Mando groans.

You let him, gods, you’d let him do anything to you. You reach a hand down between your thighs and grip him, angling his cock to your aching cunt and watch him push in instantly, just a handful of slow, precise thrusts to sheath himself in you fully with a tender stretch that leaves your walls fluttering and sensitive. You don’t think you could ever tire of this cock, you never want to. 

The Mandalorian sets a brutal pace, and  _ take it _ you shall. Every thrust hits deep and makes you see stars, shaking the very bones in your body, dragging whimper after moan after cry from you over and over again. You don’t think you have ever been fucked so hard. You find it hard to physically keep up.

Words come from you in fragmented sentences, punctuated with every thrust as air is forced from your lungs, his pace not relenting in the slightest. “Legs hurt.. Cant- cant stand… longer”. He understands you, and with a slight growl at his momentary break, he has you lower yourself to your knees, upper body now resting over the worn duvet and Mando’s body coming to fully cover you. Hes back inside you without hesitation, and his new angle on his knees somehow drives him deeper. 

You swear if you put your hand there you’d feel him in your belly.

But you cant. As his own large hands come to clasp over the tops of yours, your entire body caged by his largeness, pressing down while he bucks into you savagely. Its so much, hes so warm, and the beskar is sharp and biting and cool. The contrast of sensations is dizzying, you feel your climax approaching fast but you so desperately want to hold onto this erotic cocktail of pleasure. You can only whine as his punishing thrusts continue till you are unceremoniously dropped over the edge. 

“Fuuuuck”

He grunts, and the hands clasping yours come to wrap strong arms around your midsection, more or less crushing you to his chest. You feel the familiar weight of his helmet resting on your back as his thrusts lose rhythm against your fluttering walls and dissolve into something animalistic and desperate. Mando becomes more vocal, pants become sighs, curses become jumbled shattered sentences of a language unfamiliar to you, till he takes last jarring shaky thrusts that knock the wind from your lungs.

His moaning is drawn out and exhausted, sounding more pain then pleasure as he seems to all but crush his pelvis against your ass to bury himself as deep as he can. You feel his grip on you slowly slacken, his chest rising and falling against your back with a slight shakiness to it, having drained the last bits of adrenaline from his tired body. He really  _ did  _ need this. 

It takes him more than a few minutes to calm down, you imagine, in moments like these if he could hed trail lazy kisses along your shoulders. You pull a hand from his loosened grip and raise it, tapping your fingertips over the smooth metal of his helmet in a gesture similar to petting, if only it were gone you could run your fingers through his hair, feel the sweat slickened strands thread between them and the pleasant hum youre sure he’d purr. 

Theres a lot of ‘if only’s’ in your mind, a lot of ‘imagine if’, and you find your attachment to him is too much for a person you know barely anything about. Sure his adventures are one story, but his life, his feelings, his passions and fears, you know nothing. But the way he holds you makes you  _ want _ to, like he wants to too. 

“You ok?” you manage to ask, throat startlingly hoarse and dry. He hums, a hand rubbing gentle circles into your belly that soothe an ache you didnt know was present. “Better now” he replies. Good. At least he knows how to drain his own tension, and in turn caring for your own as well.

“Did something happen?”

You feel him nod against your back. An explanation would be nice but he still seems to be in his post-orgasm tiredness. You encourage him to lean back from you, your skin coming away sticky on his beskar, and with a croaked sigh he pulls his softening member from you. You tuck him away with a light peck to the metal crown of his helm and watch him flop over into your cot. Poor guy tuckered himself out. 

You feel you’ve somehow babysat him more than his own son.

“You can tell me about it in the morning” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like always i love and appreciate you all, thank you for the support!  
> My twitter is @Edenmiasma if you wanna.. i dunno. look at my bad memes

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter if you wanna talk about how fukin toasty Mando is <3  
> My @ is edenmiasma


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